History with Mischief
by DiscoloredLady
Summary: After Thor came crashing into Jane's life and flew right out of it in just a few days, she's left waiting, and it's wearing her down. In a farther side of the universe, a certain god of mischief watches her in her frustration, and he decides to pay her a visit as he promised Thor that he would. History grows between them, and it always leaves them on the edge.
1. Flashing Lights, Flashing Eyes

**AN: **_Unbeta-ed, barely editted, so please forgive any mistakes that will be spotted. _

**History with Mischief**

_Have you got colour in your cheeks?_

_Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the tide _

_That sticks around like summat in your teeth?_

_\- Do I Wanna Know?_

_Arctic Monkeys_

**Chapter 1**

_California, 2011_

Jane gave up on looking for Darcy a long time ago. Or was it just a few minutes since then? She couldn't remember. And she was starting to loose any care _fast_.

She slumped over the bar counter with one arm outstretched, and the other pillowed her head with a glass of liquor half-empty. The blood was pounding in her ears as she screwed her eyes shut, and her head was spinning. Was it her third drink, or fourth? Nah, she was pretty sure she had those quite a while back.

She didn't want to put her head up with what seemed to her like a million lights flashing around the dim club, not at all helping with the somewhat darkness, and she was pretty willing to go deaf just so that she wouldn't here the horrible music blasting from the gigantic speakers. Already the speakers were on the other side of the room from her, and still she couldn't hear herself scream at the top of her lungs.

Most of the time, she just kept to herself and kept her head down, letting the alcohol swish in her stomach and muddle her brain, ignoring anyone who would come to her that wasn't Darcy. If the person was being nosy and insistent in getting her to speak up, they would soon regret it, and they would turn away with the speed of light just not to be the receiving end of Jane's strings of curses and murderous glares. The only times she spoke to anyone in relative politeness with her head up was when she asked the bartender to refill her drink.

Bottom line was, she was pissed. And she was in a very, very bad mood.

Jane started to squirm in her seat, the shiny tight dress covered in sequins that Darcy had lent her earlier feeling really confining, despite the lack of fabric that would make it seem more decent. She could barely look at it without getting herself blinded for a couple of seconds, especially with the many stupid flickering lights around her. She wanted to kick off the heels from her shoes and get those tight leather straps from trying to cut the skin of her feet. Really, what was the point of having _so many _straps and having them _so tight_? She'd gladly let her stilettos fly from her aching feet and aim them at the head of the annoying and loud girl a few stools away from her, her irritating laughter reaching at least a 5 meter radius. Or maybe she could just march towards her and shove them down her throat.

Where _was _Darcy, anyway? Jane scoffed. Darcy was the one who insisted that she needed to go out here and loosen up. Take the weekend off, check into a hotel outside of the city; lay off work for just a couple of days. Drink. Dance. Maybe meet some guys. Have fun. She didn't even know why she went to _Los Angeles, _of all places. And now, she was ditched. So much for good company. And she was definitely not having half as much fun as she was promised.

She lifted her head a little, the action making the room around her spin for a while, and she let her chin rest on her forearm. Jane lifted her glass to her lips, her eyes in a squint as she watched the empty beer bottle in front of her. When the expected alcohol didn't meet her lips when she tipped the glass a little, her eyes drifted down.

Oh. Emptied her drink already.

She motioned for the bartender to refill her glass, and the man was starting to give her odd looks. She couldn't care less. Couldn't care less for any of it. It was a bar, in a club, so what else was she going to do?

Her eyes drifted to a close, and despite herself, she started to think about what she had tried to push to the back of her mind all night.

_Vibrant blue eyes, golden hair that barely brushed against a pair of broad shoulders, a kiss that made her toes curl and took her breath away; the night sky clear and the stars in full display, the bright fire lighting his gaze as they shared smiles and stories that bordered on crazy…_

_A promise of a return that didn't seem to be coming true after all._

But Jane forced those thoughts away, or at least tried her best to, and told herself over and over that it was for _more _than that. All of her efforts weren't simply because of her pining over a certain Asgardian prince, but also for the sake of science. It was all for the sake of her career, for her love for the stars, for the sake of human advancement and progress and opening it to doors of opportunities to explore the mysteries of the universe.

It was all for good purposes, for the human race as well as achieving her ambitions and fulfilling accomplishments in her scientific work.

Yeah, that was mostly it.

Einstein-Rosen bridges weren't usually built so that you could find second chances at some foolish romantic love, especially one that had more or less half the chance to go down in flames in the first place. And how could it have been love when their time together lasted all but three days?

Jane scoffed. She wasn't the type to hunt down a guy for over a year after having been with him for less than half a week. They weren't even really together, at the time! But… it didn't stop her from wanting him back; to see if there was more to their relationship than what has already happened between them, if there actually _could _be love, if—

Jane took a large swig from her newly refilled glass, stopping her trail of thought. Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking…

"I'd say you'd had rather more than enough alcohol in your system," a low voice, smooth, silken, and calm, had interrupted her thoughts, "but I can already picture the glare you would send my way if I did." It felt like it was the very opposite of their surroundings, like a never-melting ice is against a raging fire. A wave of calm against an ocean of chaos. As if he was standing by a cool pool with a chill breeze instead of in a humid and packed and sweaty dance club. She was surprised he didn't even have to shout so loud with the noise they were in. Impressed as she was, it still annoyed her like hell.

Not really thinking, she looked towards the source of the voice, to the man who sat at the very end of the bar with his back on the wall. Jane shot up in her seat, giving him her best glower as her nostrils flared and her chest heaved in angry breaths. Her look alone spelled the message she wanted to convey: _Any of it your business? No? So please do screw yourself and leave me alone._

He chuckled; loud enough for her ears to pick up over the blasted music that made her ears bleed. There was a glint in his eye that sparked her annoyance, fuelled by her rather large alcohol intake. The man had a lazy smirk gracing his lips, the party lights manipulating the hue of his skin colour greatly as they moved past his features. His hair was dark, slicked back, and it barely reflected any sort of illumination, making its sleek shine hard to notice.

The man's lips quirked up more to reveal a grin, and she did not like the meaning behind it in the slightest. He uncrossed his legs, leaning a bit nearer towards her direction, his eyes watching her with amusement and mockery.

"How predictable you are," he remarked before leaning back slowly, his gaze still observing her disgruntled form.

He had a judging look about him, his eyes roaming over her irritated expression and slightly smudged make-up and tight clothes. It seemed as though he was calculating her every asset and feature, taking into consideration every word that slipped from her lips, leading him towards a conclusion about her self that obviously entertained him. If only she could stand up from where she sat and march over to where he was without tripping… maybe punch his face…

"Thank you very much for your observation," she snapped instead, slurring a bit in her words. Jane rested her chin back on top of her forearm, watching the condensation slide down the beer bottle in front of her. "An observation I obviously did not ask for. Now leave me alone."

He laughed again, and the raspy sound sent a chill down her spine. "You seem to be very determined to keep to yourself for company, yet you chose such an interesting place to do so," he gestured to their surroundings, and despite herself, she watched his long fingers create a fluid motion in the air with grace.

Jane scowled. "It was—" _hiccup, _"out of my control."

"Oh?" his eyebrow rose at her. "Is this," he waved over her form, taking a large gulp of her drink, "also out of your control?" His mouth softened into a smirk, his chin on the heel of his palm as he put his elbow on the counter, waiting for her answer.

She ground her teeth as she sat a little straighter, drinking through half of her glass, not facing him and determined not to look at him in the hopes that he would leave her be. "No," she replied curtly. "It sure hell isn't." And it was true, sort of. It was either drown herself in her sorrow or probably stick her tongue down someone's throat, and it wasn't really a hard choice, at least as long as she still had a piece of logic working in her head.

Jane let the remains of her alcohol burn down her throat and let her head fall down onto her folded arms once more, hoping to finally dismiss the stranger who apparently either just could not take a hint or was simply ignoring her wishes of being left to sulk by herself.

"What exactly are your circumstances?" his persistent voice asked, sounding nearer to her this time. When she lifted her head, she saw that he had moved to sit a seat away from her. With his back against the bar counter, his legs crossed as he peered at her with unreadable eyes, his long neck straining to look at her. It seemed that the smirk on his mouth was semi-permanent, and it irked her to no end.

"Look, okay? It really isn't any of your business. So, buzz off, will you?" she frowned deeply at him, her lips pursed as she kept her arms locked on the table to keep from giving into the temptation of just strangling him.

She didn't even know why she was being sort of nice to the guy. He was obviously some arrogant prick who wanted to either get in her pants or get on her nerve, and he reeked of a gigantic ego that exudes off from his every word and movement. Everyone before him who tried to get a word out of her mouth had it worse than this guy. No point in trying to be civil, really, but it just seemed like she should at least try to be on his good side. Problem was, she was loosing patience fast.

The man leaned his head to the side, his gaze cool as it bore into her thoughts. "And if I don't 'buzz off'?"

Jane blinked as she tried to comprehend what he had just said and tried to understand just why he was doing this to her.

Oh, right. Pants. Nerves.

Definitely the nerves. Or, at least that was what it seemed like at the moment. Well, he was doing a terrific job at what he was trying to do. She just wanted to slap his face so hard that he would fly to the other side of the room, smashing the huge speakers that forced her to shout herself hoarse all the time in the process. Two birds in one stone. Wouldn't that have been just terrific.

But when she looked up to meet his eyes, she knew she had made a mistake.

She froze in her seat, his look pinning her into place. In that moment, she couldn't hear the blaring music from the other side of the club trying to tear her eardrums apart, couldn't feel the heat from the dancing bodies bumping into each other in sweat and near-ecstasy, couldn't even feel how her stomach plummeted at his fingers suddenly on her knee, lightly caressing her skin in small circles. She didn't even notice that he had walked from where he sat to stand before her, his face only inches from hers, and she saw only his face and felt only his intensity.

She watched as the lights danced across his features, the different hues making his real colours almost impossible to discern, and she felt like a mouse caught in the paws of a cat. His hand stopped in its ministrations and rested on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze as he leaned closer to her. He invaded her personal space and her senses, and the feral grin on his face wasn't soothing her nerves. It seemed like he was going to kiss her, but for some reason, she couldn't figure out what his motives were and what it was that he was really planning on doing with her.

Her jaw dropped and her lips began to part. Whether in confusion, in fear, in anticipation, in shock, in offence, she didn't know. But before he got any nearer, she found it in her to raise a hand and push him further away, looking anywhere but at him. She lifted her purse from her lap and took out a couple of bills, not even checking her cash, and set them beside her empty glass with shaky hands. Even while sitting atop a tall stool, he was still ridiculously taller than her petite form, and she hated the way he looked down on her.

But no matter what, all she knew was she needed to get away from this man.

Without bothering to wait for her change, she slipped from her seat that made her lower even further to the ground, making her look up even higher at his face. Despite her trembling hands, she closed them into fists at her sides, squaring her jaw as she lifted her chin up higher in the air. His face was impossibly still; the hand that slipped from her knee limp at his side, and his smile as he looked down on her made her insides tremble and her forced confidence falter. He noticed, his lips twitching upwards into an even bigger smile, crinkling the sides of his eyes as only one word entered Jane's thoughts to describe the strange, no, _psycho _man.

Predator.

_Get away _now_, Jane, _she thought to herself.

"Then _I _will," she almost spat at him, turning on her heel as she made her way to distance herself from the bar and from the stranger.

Before she could take a more than three steps away from him, a hand caught her arm in a tight grip. The impossibly cool skin sent a chill down from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she froze. Suddenly, it felt as if she wasn't in a night club with the heat shooting up enough to break a thermometer, with its humidity and lack of space. She could barely even register the people bumping into her as they made their ways to and fro from the bar. Jane felt someone walk closer to her, almost pressing against her back, and her breaths became more shallow and shallow, as if she forgot how to breathe. She felt the stranger lean down a bit, and she could hear little else with her heart thundering in her chest and her blood roaring in her ears other than _his _breathing. She felt his warm breath against her ear, making her shudder, and despite all her efforts, she simply couldn't move.

Jane looked around frantically at the people around her, wanting to call for help, wishing that they would notice her and that something was just wrong. But her throat closed, and they continued on in sashaying their hips to the beat, downing shots and liquor in speed, and almost ignored her in totality.

"Thor made a good choice in women this time," he purred into her ear, his quiet laugh resounding in her ears. "You are interesting, Jane Foster. I hope to see more of you in the future."

And with that, he let go of her, and she felt no one behind her.

With wide eyes, her heart beating even louder than before, she whirled around, and saw his retreating back as he made his way through the crowd.

But at that moment, only one thought rang and echoed in her thoughts.

_Thor_.

Jane pushed against the people, ignoring them altogether, and rushed to follow him.

She was frantic, desperate, just to get to him and demand him of some answers. He _knew _Thor, and maybe he has the solutions to many of her problems and troubles. No way was he getting away from her now, scary and psychotic and insane or not.

"Hey!" she called after him as he slipped through the crowd, and she barged between people to make way. "Hey, wait!" she called again, but he wouldn't stop, didn't even look back at her.

After over a year of hopelessly trying to find her own way through everything, she was not going to let him slip through her fingers when he was her best chance.

At a moment, he did stop, gave her a glance, and when she saw the wide smile on his face, her blood boiled to a maximum point.

Oh, no, he was not getting away from her that easily.

After making her squirm.

After making her feel almost terrified in a way that she never had been in her life.

After dangling what she wanted most in her face and cruelly snatching it away.

_Who the hell is he? What the fuck does he want from her, doing this?_

Jane barged through the way he came out, through the exit backdoors of the club, gasping at the rush of a cool breeze and thankful for the great diminishment of the volume of the music from the inside as the double doors shut closed behind her. Her eyes frantically searched around what was apparently the club's parking lot, only a tad bit brighter than the inside, and hoped to spot a tall figure with dark hair in a dress shirt that she was chasing after.

Upon seeing nothing, she growled, and ran around every corner she could find and every hidden nook and every person she could find that was present in the car park, but _nothing._

It didn't occur to her to check a particular corner of the club, her attentions altered to believe that she had already look at it, passing by it without a backwards glance. She didn't notice a pair of eyes watching her in amusement as she tried to find him in desperation.

How could he have not been there? It was impossible. Jane looked around again, and she was sure that it wasn't possible to have gone that far when she was just less than a dozen steps behind him. She ran to the front of the club, hoping to see him in the crowd as he left the place, but…

But… _nothing. _He was nowhere. For all she knew, he could already be driving up or down the road already or in a cab going home.

She dragged her feet back to a wall near the exit doors from where she came out, and she slumped her back against the cool brick, hoping to get further away from the people and the noise in the streets. Jane whimpered in defeat, squeezing her eyes shut as she let the back of her head lean against the wall. She ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated at the tight up-do, and caught the hairpins that held her hair up in her hands as her hair spilled down onto her shoulders. She could feel the tears prickling the back of her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks, but she choked down the sobs that rose in her throat.

All she could think about was how she lost him, and how she missed her chance.

He was right at her fingertips, and she _lost him_.

Jane's face scrunched up, her hands lifted to her face as she bit into her knuckles, and she tried to stop herself from trembling.

How could she have let this happen?

She was already having a terrible night, a terrible _year_, and this was just the cherry on top. Little else felt more horrible than missed opportunities like this.

She was so close at taking a big step in her search for Thor, for Asgard, for the stars above her that she just wanted to get to _so bad_, and she failed to make it.

She was bad at controlling her life. This wasn't any different.

Despite herself, her tears welled up behind her eyelids, and the traitorous things slipped down her cheeks as her knuckles tried to absorb the sound of her soft cries.

She stayed like that for a while, and after months of keeping up a face, she let herself break down.

She couldn't care less about the people making out or having sex around the car park, nor for the people drinking by themselves in the dark, nor for the people getting high on the hoods of their cars as they lied beneath the night sky. They wouldn't care to look her way, anyway, so what did it matter. She just didn't care.

Jane took her hand from her mouth and let her chin fall against her chest. She heard footsteps walk towards her, getting louder and louder, and they stopped right in front of her. The dim lights of the outside of the club that filtered through her eyelids were blocked by whoever the hell was standing in front of her, and she chose to ignore the person instead of snapping at him or her to just leave. Her. Alone.

"I believe, Jane Foster," a voice said, and at the sound, her head snapping up and her eyes opening wide at the person standing in front of her, "that you are looking for me."

The first thing that she noticed was his eyes.

The lighting was dim, but without any flashing lights to disorient her senses of discerning colours, she could see the real colour of his orbs, and she could feel them boring into her mind and soul.

It was a shade of green she thought that she had never seen before. They were as deep and as cold as glaciers, and they were shrouded in secrecy, in mystery, and in what she could only say was mischief. There was a spark in them as he looked down at her, his smile crooked and his delicate brow raised, and she couldn't place the meaning behind it. He wore a white button-up shirt, the sleeves having been rolled up to his elbows and the top buttons open, and his raven hair, even darker than the sky above them, brushed against the nape of his neck with growth.

He was close; too close, and their bodies only a hair's length away from each other. She could barely take the proximity, and her senses were invaded by a musky scent, laced with pines and the sea and other things she just couldn't place. All she could see was his smirk, his pale skin, his sharp features…

All she could sense was _him_, and she was suffocating.

"You," she croaked out, and she couldn't even move to wipe away the tears that were still spilling down her face, even with her disdain of letting him, a complete stranger who could just be a total wacko, see her in her current state. "Who the hell are you?"

He blinked once, but he didn't move an inch. He continued to look at her, examining her with his eyebrow raised, and she couldn't for the life of her read his expression.

In fact, she could place barely anything about him. And that scared her.

But Jane decided to end that trail of thought, choosing to stop wasting her time and to start demanding answers.

She licked her lips, and she saw as the man's eyes flicked downwards to watch the action. "How do you know Thor?"

At that question, he grinned, but it dropped immediately, and she saw something even colder in his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, and regarded her with a curious look. He turned, beginning to walk away without a word out of him, but Jane caught his arm. He turned to her with a blank look on his face, waiting expectantly for an answer, and it almost scared her, because it seemed like it was something that she shouldn't have done. Looking up at him, her hands were shaking, but her eyes were defiant.

"I'm not letting you go without any answers."

The corner of his lips quirked up, and he leaned down to her ear. She could feel once more his breath against her skin, and his smell grew even stronger. It was strong enough that if she closed her eyes and just took in his scent, she could fool herself into thinking that she _was _by a forest, coated in winter, as the ocean sent a biting breeze to penetrate her layers and freeze her to the bones. Jane shivered as his midnight hair brushed against his cheek, and he let out a huff that was almost a laugh.

"I assure you, Miss Foster, that we shall be meeting again."

He stepped back, and began to walk away from her as he put his hands into his pockets. Jane remained with her back against the wall, blinking, nothing quite registering in her head.

"Wait!" she called after him, hastily standing up, prepared to run after him in case he didn't stop.

But he did, and he turned his head to the side to show her that he was listening. His face angled towards the dim lighting of the outside of the club, and she couldn't help but notice the sharp planes of his pale face as the dark shadows played in contrast to his skin, his piercing eyes only peeking through his hooded eyes.

But before she got a word out of her mouth, his expression and aura changed, from mysterious and mischievous to… wild, murderous. Terrifying.

Her jaws clamped shut, and without a word from her, he walked away into the shadows of the night. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and only then did she realise just how _cold _it was outside.

**AN**_: Hey, guys. First chapter. But just a warning, regular updates won't be happening until... a couple of weeks from now. By the next update, I might even edit out this chapter. But I was just excited to know what you guys thought of this! Let me know what you guys think!_

_So if you've read my previous one-shot, Dawn to Dusk, you'll know that this multi-chapter fic is just loosely based on that. If I stray from the story plot there, then I repeat: it's only _loosely _based on it. There is no need to have read that before reading this. Both can be read separately._

_Please leave reviews! I'd love to know what you guys are thinking!_


	2. Burnt Tongues

**AN: **_Unbeta-ed, barely editted (I'm about to drop dead in sleep, god), so please forgive any mistakes that will be spotted. _

**History with Mischief**

_Are there some aces up your sleeve?_

_Have you no idea that you're in deep?_

_I dreamt about you nearly every night this week._

_\- Do I Wanna Know_

_Arctic Monkeys_

**Chapter 2**

Darcy's been watching Jane for the past two weeks, and to say that she was starting to get annoyed and concerned for the astrophysicist would be a huge understatement.

Jane was fidgety, never staying in one place for very long. She kept pacing, her eyes either blank or flashing to look at everything all at once, wherever it may be that they went.

When Darcy had demanded Jane to tell her what was wrong, she merely shook her head and went back to bury herself under her research or plunged her self into her worrying state that had become a rather regular occurrence these past few weeks. Worrying over what, she couldn't really place. All that Darcy knew was that Jane was never like this before, even after the thing with Thor.

It only meant that something had happened, and despite what other people think, she's not blind enough not to see things like this.

Darcy was ready to pull her hair out. Even Erik couldn't get through the stubborn woman, and now that he was gone and she was left alone to deal with Jane…

She really didn't know what to do.

•

Jane glanced outside the window. The sun hung almost low in the sky, painting it with an orange tinge against the darkening blue. The sky was as clear as ever, and she was anxious to see once more the view of stars that gave her comfort like no other can.

She reached over the top of her desk, her eyes never leaving the glass windows as she stared blankly at the setting sun, and when she tipped the contents of the mug into her mouth, her tongue met nothing but air.

Jane frowned. She didn't even notice the lack of heat from inside the mug when she had touched it. She brushed it off, walking up to the counter where the coffee maker was stationed, and found that it, too, was empty.

She let out a strangled sigh through her teeth, looking through the cupboards and cabinets and drawers, even inside the refrigerator and microwave, to find that they had run out of coffee. All of the jars holding but a few granules of ground coffee that even combined weren't enough to make one cup of the bitter beverage, and the packs that they kept as stock were crumpled and torn in the garbage bins.

She stared at the empty coffee maker for a good length of time. Slowly, the pinched and irritated expression on her face deepened into a frown, her features scrunching up as she marched up to the kitchen sink. Jane almost smashed her cup under the faucet that she had almost ripped off as she let the water flow, eyeing the box of tea bags nearby with distaste as she turned to retrieve the kettle and began to fill it with the still running water.

She sniffled, and her vision began to blur and the back of her eyes began to burn. Blinking, her flooded eyes cleared, but as soon as it had, she felt hot trails streaming down her face.

Jane touched the tears that had spilled down her cheeks in surprise.

Once more, she had let the circumstances of the twists and turns of her life drive her to tears.

She watched as the tap water filled the steel kettle and flowed over the rim, the clear liquid streaming down the cold metal while burning tears streamed down to her chin. She was left immobile, staring only at the water as it forced itself into its very limited container. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the handle tightened, her nails digging into the heel of her palm and slicing through the skin, and she felt herself cool down a little bit as the cold water ran over the nail-shaped cuts in her hand.

Jane felt it. She felt it all.

And all of it burned.

Every pent up emotion, every failed ambition, every hidden thought, every secret and lie and every screwed up truth was leaving her screaming as they seared through her very being.

All she wanted was to dump water over all of it and put them out, even just for a second. She wanted them to freeze, and she wanted to abandon them, even just for a moment. She wanted a coolness to wash over the fires of anger and guilt and dissatisfaction that kept on growing and growing in her chest.

Because she was angry; angry at herself for letting herself fall too deep into her love for the stars, for letting herself border on the edges of conventionalities and letting herself to topple over the edge, for letting her stubbornness push aside everyone else's concern that she was giving far too much of herself into her research, for letting the memory of Thor haunt her lonely days as she tried so desperately to find him once more. None of this had been enough, and she wanted to see more of the cosmos that was only barely out of her reach. She wanted to see the towering resplendence of Asgard. She wanted to see the beauty of different planets, feel the heat of different suns, trace the patterns of different constellations and asterisms in different skies…

All that Jane wanted was to see the whole of the nine realms.

The truth was, she was guilty. She was guilty that in the very core of it all, she was the reason behind her anger and discontentment.

She wanted to feel indifferent, even if it would make her colder.

She wanted to be stripped of her burdens and mistakes, even if she would end up lost.

She wanted to shut everything out, even if it would make her numb.

She wanted… she wanted…

Coffee.

She needed to get out.

Her face twisted in disgust. She was getting this worked up and upset, because of coffee? Or rather, the lack thereof?

Jane wrenched the faucet shut, leaving the full kettle and dirty coffee mug in the sink as she snatched her purse and coat before heading towards the door.

•

Jane kept her eyes downcast, trudging through the streets of Puente Antiguo as the dust from the roads and pavements clung to her boots and to the worn fabric of her jeans.

She didn't bother to look up at the people who walked by her way. After all, they wouldn't even really bother to look her direction, either. Puente Antiguo was a small enough town that you would more or less know the faces of mostly everyone residing within the area, if not be at least familiar with their names.

And as for her, she was just that crazy scientist, who preferred to live around the edges of the town, the odd woman who seemed to favour the company of heavenly bodies that are out of her reach rather than actual human contact. No one was very keen on trying to get close to her or at least try to get to know her, and in all honesty, she wasn't interested in associating herself with any of them, all the same. The feeling between her and the rest of this part of society was mutual.

She had been labelled as an outcast here, and she'd be lying if she said it bothered her.

_Maybe it should have, though,_ she thought. Maybe if she acted a little bit more normal, or at least tried to, maybe things could have worked out differently, or more importantly, maybe things could have worked out for the better.

But she knew she'd only despise herself for forgoing her dreams to reach out to the stars. She knew that she would always wonder how her life would have turned out, as she lived her mundane life, thinking, wishing, dreaming… _if only_. And if she were to face the same choices again, she knew she'd still end up where she was right then.

So, what exactly was the point of regret?

Jane headed to the nearest decent diner in the area, not wanting to go back to her lab any time soon to be faced with reality. A woman stationed by the counter greeted her lazily as she came in, and Jane didn't acknowledge her. Out of the corner of her eye with her head still bowed down, she saw the woman, in her slightly dirtied apron and faded uniform, shrug as she scoffed quietly. Jane picked at random on which table to sit, not really caring, and muttered to the waiter who approached her order of black brewed coffee.

She looked around the diner, taking in the washed out walls and floor, the worn out booths and tables, and the faces of the people who border on familiarity and not. The staff had just opened the neon lights as the night almost descended upon them, casting an awful light on the cheap place.

She never truly noticed that before, never took the time to take any of it in for what they really were as she did now. She wished she hadn't.

Her eyes were drawn to a table, somewhere in the middle of the space, and even as the waiter had arrived and placed the steaming mug in front of her and she had curled her fingers around it, she was still staring.

Jane blew on the surface of her coffee and took a sip, not at all minding how the liquid scalded her tongue. As soon as she took her first gulp, she sighed contentedly in finally having her coffee. She hadn't noticed how close she was to crashing down with the lack of caffeine. Or maybe, the lack of sleep.

Her gaze stayed on the table that was a distance from her, not really knowing why she was looking at it, as her thoughts wandered and her stare turned blank.

She knew; she was an idiot.

How could she be so stupid as to let that man go just like that?

Whoever he was.

She even dared to believe that they _would _meet again, even if she let him walk away from her then and there. She didn't know if he was one of the good guys, or if he had an ulterior motive, and she let him go. Whichever's side he's on, though, may it be on the bad, on Thor's, on his own, or none at all, she was at least sure of one thing:

He wasn't completely good.

Jane remembered how it was like to be near him… he hadn't needed to touch her to make her feel _trapped_. His eyes and voice alone could make her freeze under his gaze, make her tremble like a leaf, and he seemed to slip in the spaces between people like an unnoticed shadow. If his eyes on her could paralyse her from a distance, and the quirk of his lips could make her feel like a hunted prey, then with having him barely a few inches from her, or but a hair's length from touching her skin… and to have his hands, cold and precise, to actually touch her, she knew he was dangerous.

But that didn't mean that it was all unwelcome.

She wasn't so sure what to think about that.

Hey eyes snapped open, her eyelids having closed without her noticing, and a sudden realisation came to her as her gaze went back to the empty table.

It was where she, Erik, Darcy, and Thor sat when she had fed his giant appetite. She had forgotten that it was here where she took them, her mind full of questions as she looked at the god with wonder and fascination in her eyes while she watched him wolf down the food.

It was stupid. Jane didn't even know why it mattered if this was where she fed him.

He was here for three days. _Three days_. What did it matter if he was the Norse god of thunder? What did it matter if he was charming and handsome and kind?

It was just three days.

It wasn't enough for love to have grown between them. So what exactly was she feeling?

The coffee in the mug she had tight in her hands shook, threatening to spill over the rim, and suddenly, she couldn't handle being where she was anymore.

Jane took in a large gulp of her cooling beverage, though still fairly hot, before retrieving her money and slamming it on the table. She walked to the exit, leaving her still nearly full drink there to cool.

There was a slight breeze as the air outside hit her face. She sighed in relief as she looked around. Before she could meet anyone's eyes, she directed her gaze to the ground, ignoring the people as they went on with their everyday lives without her.

The quiet wind ran its fingers through her hair, making the tightness in her throat loosen. She walked as silently as she could, watching the blown dust of the desert begin to coat over her clothes, lighted softly by the sun dipping slightly in the horizon and by the street lamps that had started to flicker to life.

She walked up to the local store, pushing the glass door as a bell jingled over her head, and she allowed herself a small smile at the young man who sat behind the cash register.

She immediately made her way and found the coffee section, getting a few packs to last her for the week. As she was headed to pay for her stash, she got in line behind a tall man with dark hair, covered with a flawless expensive-looking coat and a bundle of that day's newspaper under his arm.

As he turned to walk away after having finished his transactions, he hit the pile of coffee bags in her arms with his elbow, and a couple fell down to the floor.

"Oh, I apologise," he said, leaning down and picking them up quickly, and she hastily bent down to help him. All she could see was his jet black hair, darker than the midnight sky, and she frowned at the familiarity. His voice sounded familiar, too. It sounded like…

He placed the coffee packs in her arms before looking up at to see her face, a wide grin set on his lips as he straightened himself to stand properly.

But Jane was frozen, half-bent with her arms hugging the coffee bags to her chest and her head leaned back to look at the man square in the face, and she couldn't move.

It was him.

It was _him_.

After weeks of thinking that she was crazy, thinking that…

And he was right here, in Puente Antiguo, smiling down at her…

Once more, his piercing gaze pinned her on the spot. The boy behind the cash register was starting to give them strange looks in their awkward position, or rather, _her _awkward position, but for a while, she couldn't move.

When she did leap up and straightened herself, her eyes had gone wide, her mouth gaping like a fish and her arms dropping to her sides. The coffee bags fell down onto the floor with dull thuds, but all she could hear was the sound of a ragged breath and all she could see were his eyes, those very green eyes. After a moment, she realised that the breathing that she was hearing was hers.

"Are you two alright?" the cashier asked, sounding slightly worried.

The man didn't acknowledge the young cashier, settling to incline his head towards her, and started to walk out of the door, his smile still in place.

It took her only a moment to spur into action, leaving the packs of coffee on the floor and the cashier shouting after her, but she didn't hear him.

As soon as she had set a foot out of the store, she reached out just in time to grab his arm, and he turned to her expectantly, his smirk still in place.

She had not notice that the clouds of dust around them had not touched any part of him, that the winds and breezes has not tousled his hair as soon as he exited the store, or that the world around them was failing to affect him in any way whatsoever. She only had one goal in mind.

"You're not going _anywhere_," she growled, "until I get my answers."

•

She was sitting back at the diner she was just at not more than half an hour ago, in the exact same booth and the exact same seat, but now with a fresh cup of coffee in front of her. In addition to that, there was now a strange man sitting in front of her, who might just be the key to unlocking her deepest and wildest dreams, and she did her best not to fidget under his stare.

The said man was clad in a three-piece suit, tailored and grand, and the white shirt he wore was crisp and smooth. All of which were revealed upon his taking off his coat, which was hung carefully over the backrest of the empty space beside him. He wore a dark emerald tie that had a silvery sheen when the light hit it, but it couldn't take her attention away from his face.

He was looking at her, eyebrow raised delicately, and the only way she could describe the look he was giving her was that it was expectant, laced with nonchalance. Now that they were in a lighting that she could count as passable, she could see him more clearly, from a distance that was preferable to her than from the first time she had the chance to look at his features properly.

His hair was dark enough to border on blue, slicked back in the same fashion it was in weeks before when she had first saw him, and had pale skin that contrasted greatly to it. He had a noble nose, and below it, he had thin lips that had, just at that moment, settled for a crooked smile.

Okay, so definitely, he wasn't unattractive.

But already, by just staring at his expression, she was starting to loose her nerve.

"What?" she snapped at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she huffed. It only made his smile grow even wider, and he allowed himself to lean back as he considered her.

He held his hands up as if in invitation before weaving his fingers together and setting them on his lap. "You tell me, Miss Foster. It was you who had dragged me here, was it not?"

On a certain level, she was still terrified of him, of what he could do, and she tried her best to go on cautiously with this man. But she couldn't help the anger building in his chest at his teasing, at his games, at the way he affected her, and she couldn't help, either, to at least try to stand up in defiance.

"It was _you _who came to me, and it was _you _who promised we would meet again," Jane hissed at him. "It's obvious that you showed up because there's something important you have to say or… I don't know, something! Otherwise, you wouldn't have taken the time to make me go around in circles." Jane's eyes narrowed and she leaned a little forward as she let a bit of her frustration shine through. Okay, maybe not a bit. A lot, probably. But it was justifiable. "So please, can't you just tell me the reason why you've come all the way here, whoever you are, just to pick on me?"

But all Jane received in reply was a curved brow, and though his features revealed about nothing, his eyes betrayed the amusement that was shining brightly through them.

It was his locked lips that set her off, though. That even though finally, after waiting for so long for him to come back along, he was sitting in front of her, he still would not open his mouth.

It was like being faced with a box of treasures, but having the keyhole hidden from sight.

"How do you know my name?" she asked without hesitation this time, slamming her hands down on the table as she stood over its surface, a ways bit in leaning nearer towards him, causing a number of heads nearby to turn their way. Her face was gnarled by her anger and defeat, confusion and desperation, and by the many months that had been wearing her down ever since Thor had flown back out of her life.

His expression, however, remained passive. He looked back at her without blinking, unmoving as he sat still, but his eyes followed each movement she made.

"I've come too far to try to get what I've been working hard for my entire life, and for the last few weeks, I thought I had somehow failed myself even more, and now that you're here," she said to him, her voice thick with emotion, "I am not letting this opportunity be wasted and in vain."

She didn't know where her courage was coming from. The truth of it was, she was still afraid of him. With the way he looked back at her, she couldn't decipher anything, and she didn't know what to expect. She could feel the power behind his expression, that despite all her demanding and whining, in the end, the last say would still be resting in his hands. But Jane was too emotional at the time, too far-gone into her fears that she had been trying to hide from, that he would simply have to put up with her.

"Why are you here?" her voice broke as she continued to assault him with her questions, but she had fallen back against the booth, the adrenaline of emotions having past and her realisation sobering her. "Who are you?"

But neither backed down as they both stared square into each other's gazes.

Eventually, painfully slowly, the man moved to fold his arms upon the table, letting a thoughtful look fall upon him as he inclined his head to her direction. He was yet to answer any of her questions, to make any of their time worthwhile, and she wished with all her being that he would simply stop being so stubborn.

Suddenly, she didn't want to hear what he had to say. Suddenly, the look in his eyes told her that what he was about to tell her wasn't something she wanted to hear, and despite all her sufferings, a part of her wanted to tell him to just stop, just go away and leave her alone.

"How long have you been lying to yourself?"

The question had caught her off-guard, making her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline as she blinked at him. A lump rose in her throat, and no matter how much she tried to swallow it down she simply couldn't. His face was still unreadable, blank, and she was trying desperately to look for meaning behind his words.

"Excuse me?"

"What is it that you want?" he said instead, simply, lazily, now having his turn in invading her personal space from across the table. "It is a simple enough question, I believe," he began.

"I also believe that you want something from me," his lips quirked upwards for a moment. "I know that you want my help. But it is the question of if I will decide to help you, if I hear what I want to hear. I will tell you what you want to know, answer your questions as best as I can, if only you let yourself only a little bit of honesty."

Jane's thoughts went to the obvious and automatic reasons. Humanity, Asgard, exploration, and a particular god of thunder. Her dreams since she was a child, her life-long work as an astrophysicist in the fringes of science…

But suddenly, he stood up from his seat, and her breath was caught in her throat.

He leaned even further over the table surface, closing the distance between their faces, and her eyes were wide as they were glued to his gleaming green orbs.

"Think carefully, dear Jane," he whispered to her, his mouth curling into a small smile. "Be truthful to yourself and think carefully."

Jane could only stare back at him as he said those words, and her mind went almost blank. Suddenly, she couldn't take thinking about any of it; suddenly she didn't want to face any of it yet; suddenly…

He grinned down at her, feral and wild as his white teeth flashed at her. "I hope that you provide me with the right answer the next time we shall cross each other's paths, Miss Foster."

He stood straight, brushing off his suit before reaching for his coat. He shrugged it on like a second skin, his movements like fluid that she couldn't help but watch, and he nodded at her.

"Till we meet again, Jane," he bid her farewell once more, heading toward the doors with light footsteps. And once more, as he left her thoughts both reeling and fading at the same time, he was gone.

**AN: **_Okay, this chapter, I'll definitely edit out sometime. I think. I could barely focus on the last part of this chapter... Next chapter shall be in Loki's point of view! Which shall be the first time I shall ever endeavour in writing from his perspective. Wish me luck. _

_Please, please, please leave reviews! :) Tell me what you guys think!_


	3. Sold to the Devil

**History with Mischief**

_How many secrets can you keep?_

'_Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow_

_And I play it on repeat till I fall asleep,_

_Spillin' drinks on my settee._

_Do I Wanna Know?_

_Arctic Monkeys_

**Chapter 3**

Of course he was curious.

Because…

A thick and half-witted creature such as Thor? He had never truly imagined him, of all people, to change.

All because of one _mortal_.

Yes, of course he was curious.

Observing her in Midgard from where he set out his plans with the Chitauri into fruition was the simplest course of action. His brow would furrow. She would be off for days on end, making do with the limited equations and laws of science that guided her in her research, undeniably and exceptionally brilliant compared to others of her kind. On some days, she would mope about like a love-sick child budding into adolescence, pining over bright eyes and an easy smile that was simply out of her reach. He would hear her utter, or could read her lips, of prayers to Thor, or simply calling out to him. She, a scientist who barely even considered the existence of any god before in her entire life. She, who considered herself to be a woman of modern and logical beliefs. She, one who had "superstitious" at somewhere in the bottom of her immediate vocabulary, was _praying_? To _Thor_?

In his mind's eye, he watched as the day came when cracks were starting to creep up her wall of confidence and optimism as she continued on with her search for Thor. A few months had passed since she had last seen or heard of the god of thunder, and though her continuous effort wore her down plenty, she carried on as if her anxiety and growing dread were not there.

He knew it in less than a glance.

One did not need to be a god of lies to be able to see the hope she so desperately tried to cling to.

It was a wall of lies she had put up around her, and it was the invincible truth that was starting to crack through the stubborn rock she keeps on trying to put up.

Days, weeks, months wore on, and the time came that her friend, that intern of hers, had decided to take her out to drink her worries away.

How could he resist an opportunity to play with Thor's mortal pet?

After all, there was one promise he made to him, a promise he was more than happy to fulfil.

•

She really was a fool.

What was she thinking, honestly waiting for him to come back and sweep her off her feet? And now…

Now, there was a specific pair of eyes that seemed to be burned into her mind's eye.

Eyes that were a colour of winter green.

Eyes she could never decipher when they studied her every move.

Eyes that were precise, calculating, deadly.

Eyes cold and burning at the same time.

Eyes that were not Thor's.

Jane sat on a lawn chair outside her trailer, a blanket covering only the lower half of her legs despite the dessert chill and her thin clothes, and she looked up to the constant comfort in her life: the stars.

The embers that were still trying to hold on to their glow continued to burn near her feet, barely reaching the tips of her toes. It was the light of the rest of the cosmos that illuminated her sight and on the barren surroundings that encased her. But right then and there, in all honesty, it didn't really matter. It was as if she couldn't see even the stars, even in all of their brilliance and glory that night, as her mind set off to far off destinations, farther than even the limited numbers of constellations and solar systems that she could see.

She couldn't even remember his eyes.

She remembered how he made her feel. She remembered how he made her laugh and smile when she knew she wasn't the type of person to easily light up. She remembered how a small part of her thought he was just a bit crazy, a bit delusional, when he talked about Yggdrasil, about Midgard and Asgard and the other seven realms with a notebook and a pencil. But for her, it was okay. She was a bit crazy herself, so it all hit right at home.

She remembered how excited she felt when he was around, the shiver that ran down her spine when he looked at her with intrigue and interest and _something else_ in the span of those three days. She remembered…

But she couldn't recall the colour of his eyes, the shape of his face. She couldn't remember the feeling of his arms around her and the way he held her. She couldn't remember the sound of his laugh, of his voice, and she couldn't remember the lines of his mouth and the colour of his hair. She couldn't remember the feel of his lips against hers when he had kissed her, many months ago.

If she was going to be honest, she didn't know how to feel about the situation.

She did know that it terrified her that she didn't know what she felt about it.

Did it matter that she couldn't remember the things that made up Thor to be who he was?

Maybe.

Was it enough that she's left only with the feelings she wasn't sure how to deal with, with a shadow of how she felt many months before?

Maybe… not.

Was it natural? Was it okay that maybe it wasn't enough?

She really didn't know.

With her feelings for Thor fading, why would she need to look through the entirety of the universe? For _him_? Why was it _she _who has been looking for him? When it's _she _who barely has the means to go to him? Why hasn't she seen him, or at least heard of him?

Anger once more started to swell in her chest as she glared up at the night sky, her nostrils flaring and her fingers digging into her palms into tight fists. She felt forgotten, betrayed, so puny and unimportant and insignificant to have been cast aside by the god of thunder. After all, what was she to him? She was only human. The whole span of her life would have passed like a blink of an eye to him. She was weak, she held no power…if she actually thought about it, he had no reason to come back to her.

But she couldn't stop herself from feeling the pang in her chest, the burning behind her eyes, because she believed in him. She had faith in him to come back, to sweep her off her feet and to…to bring her closer to the stars. At that point, she had no idea if she was being selfish or being too hopeful.

Jane couldn't stop the tear that rolled down her cheek.

She shook violently, from the cold or from her grief, she couldn't tell.

She couldn't decide on her thoughts like she used to, not since several weeks ago.

Since meeting him.

Him, with those eyes.

Those eyes that froze and burned.

Eyes she couldn't read, couldn't place anything that he held within his icy orbs.

What did he mean when he asked her that?

What she wanted?

He talked as if she didn't know what she wanted. He spoke as if she was an undecided little girl who didn't know any better. Even though…

Well…

What if he was right?

Jane gritted her teeth, and she let out a frustrated sigh as she remembered how he looked at her. It infuriated her how mocking the quirk of his lips was. There was a look in his eyes that made her think that he knew so much more about her than she's ever thought she let him see, and it aggravated her. It made her feel vulnerable, exposed. Terrified.

She felt terrified of him, and yet, she never gave her self the chance to back down when the tilt of his chin challenged her. The truth of it was, he was bringing out a side of her she wasn't totally conscious of having.

Jane started nodding off. The cold, instead of making her uneasy and uncomfortable, made her drowsy and sleepy, and under the starry night sky, she began to nod off into sleep. In the middle of her slumber, she kicked off the flimsy blanket from her body, falling to the dry ground, leaving her to shiver in the cold as the tongues of fire were reduced to the glow of embers, and the embers to ash.

Sometime before the glow of the first rays of sunrise start to line the horizon with silver, the blanket lifts from the soil, slowly creeping up to cover Jane's body. Fire erupts from the ashes, casting a golden glow on her thinly covered skin, the tremors that ran over her body steadily lessening into hushed breathing.

And just before the sun peeks over the jagged line between the lightening sky and heating ground, a shadow that stood a little ways from Jane's sleeping form trembled and drifted slightly, disappearing before the light touches it.

•

It was Erik who woke her up the next morning.

He shook her awake with a slight urgency, and she groaned as the bright late morning sunshine threatened to blind her through her closed eyes.

"Oh Jane, how could you have fallen asleep here? It's _freezing _at night in these damned _deserts_—"

"Hi," Jane interrupted him as she lightly laid her hand on his arm, her eyes squeezing even tighter while trying to sit up. "Uhm, Erik, what time is it?"

"It's damn well past six in the morning, and we better get you in before you start to cook out here."

Jane experimentally opened one eye, groaning again at the bright light, and rubbed her other eyelid before squinting up at Erik. When she saw the expression on his face, she cringed, and looked down at her feet that were dangling off her lawn chair.

"Jane," he said, his tone stern.

When she didn't acknowledge him, he called her again, this time, more scolding.

Hesitantly, slowly, she looked up to meet his eyes, and saw in them what she tried to avoid so desperately.

"You have to stop this."

The look in Erik's eyes was one of such pity, worry, frustration, and…she hated it. She wanted to scream at him, tell him that she knew, she wasn't an idiot, that it was _she _who was experiencing _every _emotion and _every _thought went through _her _head, and it was _she _who knew and felthow _painful_ it all was and how it was all killing_ her_. Of course she knew. She didn't need anyone to spell it out for her.

"What are you doing, Jane?"

From a question with an answer so blood-curdlingly and painfully obvious, came a question with an answer that induced within her a blinding frustration and paralysing cluelessness.

But if she started asking herself the same questions, over and over again, she…she would…

"This isn't you, Jane. You've turned into something else since that Thor came around, and left you without even a glance back. What's happened to you, Jane?" Erik kept on probing her with questions she didn't want to answer, didn't know the answer to, and sat beside her. He took her hands into his own, looking over at her with the care and worry of a father over his daughter, trying to catch her eyes as she flitted her gaze at everywhere but his imploring look. "Where's the strong Jane that I know is in there somewhere, stubborn and unstoppable in following her dream to explore and know the universe?"

Jane stood up, not meeting Erik's stare, ignoring his questions and everything he said that just _hurt_ or plain irritated her.

"He's a god, Jane. I'm not trying to put you down or anything, but, let's be realistic…"

"What happened to your dreams?..."

"Has there been something going on you're not telling me about?..."

"Darcy and I have been worried about you…"

"I don't really think he's just going to come back for…"

"What have you been thinking about, Jane?..."

"Is this really about Thor?..."

"Why are you being this way, Jane?..."

"What's this really about, huh?..."

What did she really want?

She'd had enough.

Jane stood from her seat on the lawn chair beside Erik, and started to walk back into her trailer, her home, to her bed.

"Jane!"

She stopped, but didn't turn around. She waited for him to speak, keeping her eyes locked on the door of the trailer.

"Why won't you talk to me, Jane?"

She knew. She knew the answers to his questions. She just couldn't bear to…

How could she make him understand?

Jane mumbled under her breath, "You wouldn't understand."

But he didn't hear her.

"What?" he asked her, rising in his seat and leaning over his waist to hear her clearer.

She wanted to just scream. She wanted to…to…

What _did _she want?

Surprisingly, a trembling smile made to her lips, and any urge to just snarl and snap at him melted away.

She turned and faced Erik, smile still in place to meet his still concerned frown. "I'm fine, Erik," she said, acting more like the Jane she used to be, but the emotions and thoughts inside her were telling a different story. "Really, I'm just fine."

•

Erik took her to dinner that night.

Not far from her home, actually. Just cheap food, just to get her out.

Not far at all. Very near, in fact. Somewhere she's been to quite a couple of times.

He took her to where she fed _him _enough to fill the bellies of five, and where she took _him _to demand and pry for answers.

But even though memories of them were lurking at the back of her mind, she pushed those thoughts even further away, and she's left with just…

Erik, and cheap food. Bitter coffee in her mouth, the neon lights casting cheap colours on any surface within their reach, mutterings of the locals buzzing around her. Her ham and eggs, in front of her, barely touched.

But as opposed to a usual night of inexpensive supper and tacky walls, she knew he was here.

After weeks.

Hell, she could _feel _him sit somewhere behind her, almost feeling every movement he made.

And she could feel how his eyes bore into the back of her neck. Those icy eyes, piercing and calculating, as if they were cut and carved from glaciers.

She plastered on a smile as relaxed as she could, listening to Erik's voice without really thinking about what he was saying, her thoughts elsewhere, somewhere behind her…

"Jane?"

Her head snapped up, having looked down at the rim of her mug while barely registering much except for…

"Huh?"

Jane saw the furrow on his forehead and she smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Erik. What were you saying?

It was so forced, and so wrong. She's been pushed to the limits on how unfair it all was to her, and until now, she wears a mask. She wore it even in front of those closest to her, even in front of one as dear to her as Erik.

Erik shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, until he glanced down to her plate of food, and he closed his mouth again.

He let out a sigh.

"At least you seem to be acting more like yourself now, Jane." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, resting limply near her coffee. She could barely look him in the eye, but tried to smile a little convincingly.

Lies.

"Maybe we should head back now, before it gets too late. I think you should get some rest. We can talk tomorrow."

Erik stood from his seat, putting on his jacket that was slung over the back of his chair, and looked expectantly at Jane.

But she could barely feel Erik's waiting look. All she could feel was the burning of _his _gaze into her back.

Jane straightened her back a little and looked up at him, forcing any amount of innocence to paint her features. "I think I'll stay here a little bit longer. I'll just finish my coffee and food, and then head back." She leaned back against her chair and took a sip of her cooling beverage, smiling at Erik a little through the ceramic as she tried to reassure his worried look.

"I'll be fine, Erik. I promise."

Erik watched her for a moment before he stepped forward and his arms squeezed her frailer body to his own with her still being seated. She felt his lips press against the crown of her head, her cheek against the cotton of his shirt, and Jane felt her hand rise to clutch at the back of his jacket. Suddenly, the scientist was replaced and she was a child once more in his arms, ridiculous and lost as she gripped at his jacket. Her eyes drifted shut as Erik kissed the top of her head, and a wave of exhaustion washed over her. She could still feel his eyes on her, several tables away, but ignored how his stare made her skin prickle, how she felt her breath quicken and become shallower as Erik held her like she was a little girl, ignored how his presence made her heart thump wildly against her ribcage.

"Be careful, you hear me? Don't stay out too late," whispered Erik into her hair.

She felt her self nod slightly at his words, and he pulled away, reaching into his pocket to put several bills on the table. Jane almost reached back out once his arms were gone, wanting to feel safer and dependent on something or someone again, only to catch herself before doing so. She couldn't do that, especially with him watching everything that she did.

Jane didn't watch him leave, her eyes stuck on a point on the table, but listened to Erik's footsteps as he walked away and exited the diner.

When he was gone, Jane felt as if she was attuned to every sound in the diner as she listened for him behind her.

One second. Two.

A minute. Three.

Each second, each minute that stretched on as if they would go on forever was making her on edge, and he knew exactly what it was doing to her.

A three grumbling old men walked out of the diner a few minutes later, into the world of dust and night of Puente Antiguo with only their caps and jackets to go against it, leaving her alone with her food.

Alone, with him.

The news blared on the television screen, and Jane focused on its sound, or on the bustling of the waiter as he walked around the counter to wipe imaginary stains on its surface, or, or…

Anything. Anything to keep her mind off of him, even if just for a second longer.

Suddenly, all too soon, she heard the scraping of the legs of a chair being pushed back.

She heard the double doors that led to the kitchens open and swing shut, heavy feet padding over the worn dirty white tiles of the floor.

The next footsteps she heard were so light and soft; she almost couldn't make them out. Jane gritted her teeth with anticipation, and a feeling she couldn't understand was stirring in her belly.

She could see his dark grey suit and even darker coat from the corner of her eye as she refused to remove her sights from that particular spot on the table, and she saw him take what was Erik's seat, plopping down on it gracefully. She felt him watch her, and from her peripheral vision, she could swear that there was a small smirk twitching up the corner of his mouth with almost a knowing and devilish intent.

They both let the silence fill the space between them, and he merely watched her as Jane continued to watch the food in front of her, the table, anything but him.

But Jane had waited too long. And she would have no silence any longer. If she needed to swallow down her emotions, she would.

She would have to listen to her gut this time.

She let her eyes meet his, looking up with a new determination and confidence she didn't think she felt, and they were met with the twinkle of his emerald depths.

He was almost laughing at her.

"Would you," she started with a weak voice, and she hated how it sounded, "at least tell me who you are?"

His smirk stayed in place, and he his mouth kept silent, but it was as if his eyes told everything his lips wanted to utter. He simply watched her, and she felt ridiculous. It made an anger boil within her, and she just wanted to reach over the table and wipe his smile off his face.

Jane narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest in her insecurity. "I will not trust someone I don't know," she growled.

He let out a breath through his nose in derision, almost like a snort. "I do not recall asking you for your trust, Jane," he said in a low and relaxed voice.

She shivered as her name rolled off of his tongue, and her teeth gritted against it. She would not let him affect her as much as he did the last times they met. She did not need to chalk up any more breakdowns.

"You expect me to follow you around like a little lost lamb? What the hell do you want from me?" Jane hissed at him. "What do you get out of all this?"

In each passing moment, he looked more and more bored, his fine brow arching as he looked at her. "Questioning anything and everything will not get us anywhere, dear Jane." He sat a little straighter, his dark slicked back hair gleaming slightly under the bad lighting and his pale skin almost too white, but his eyes shone infinitely brighter. The grin that grew on his face put her on edge. "You must risk things in order to attain what you want. Fate will not let you go without a fair trade," he leaned forward and wove his fingers together, setting them on the table, looking like he was imparting a wicked secret to her.

"How do you even know what I want? You'd just spoon-feed it to me without me knowing what's going on?" Jane probed further, not going down without a fight.

He pretended to think about what she said. "Well, I am quite certain that spoon-feeding had not been a part of my plan."

Jane narrowed her eyes at the man, fighting the urge to tear all of her hair off of her head and then strangling him afterwards. Scared or not, she was surprised at how he infuriated her.

"You can't make me consent to anything with just that."

"Then you will spend your life regretting that you denied the opportunity I offer you now."

He abruptly stood up, looking down on her as he refused to tilt his head down. Her eyes widened at the sudden movement, but the growing frown on her brow still in place. She hated how small she must have looked to him, hated the expression on his noble features.

"I have said that I will not tolerate you lying to yourself. I offer you only the doors to the universe, and it shall be your doing if you lock them from yourself forever." He bent over his waist and looked her in the eye, his face mere inches from hers after just one moment and his thumb and forefinger holding her chin in place. His expression was harder than it was the previous second, but there was something in those eyes of his that she simply couldn't read.

"I do not offer you pity or kindness or any sort of comfort, and I did not ask to handle a petulant child. I hold your place in the stars in the palm of my hand, Jane Foster, and you know that once I have gone, you would have thrown it away until the end of your days."

He let go of her just then, his mouth crooked for a reason she couldn't place, and he stood straighter. He looked powerful as he was standing before her, his fine clothes perfect and his aristocratic features out of place in this diner, in this town, in her life, and he walked.

He walked away from her without turning to look back.

Jane couldn't take her eyes off the space he had been in mere seconds before, her eyes wide and her jaw slack, and as soon as the ring of the bell above the glass doors of the diner reached her ears, something in her snapped.

And so she ran.

She ran after him without holding back, chasing after him for the third time in each of their three meagre meetings, and set out of the diner, leaving her barely touched food and Erik's money on the table.

Jane was just in time to catch sight of his back before he left the front of the establishment. He stopped and turned over his shoulder, looking down but showing he was listening, and on his face was a mischievous grin, as if he knew.

She, too, looked down, but for different reasons as she felt shame course through her veins. Because, though she loathed admitting it, she knew, as well.

He won.

When she looked back up at him to open her mouth, green eyes that held a world of ice within them looked back at her. His smile was wild, and she could feel her throat constrict as she felt herself gulp.

Her stomach plummeted as a thought she had long ago realised verbalised itself in her head at that moment.

She just sold her soul to the devil.

**AN: **_Ii'm not really sure where I'm going with this story, but...gah. LOL. I know I said I'd write this chapter in Loki's perspective, but I liked the idea of keeping it more or less a mystery. _

_Okay, first of all, I'm sorry for the long-ish wait. I've been writing this ever since I posted the second chapter, but I could never get any more than a couple of lines at a time. But I found the time now! And if you felt like these past few chapters have been a tad too long, I apologise. But. Well. Yeah. And so. the story gets more interesting from here on out. :)_

_Please leave reviews and criticisms, they would be much appreciated and would be motivation for me. :)_


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